


There's No Place Like...

by RedRowan



Series: The Boxer's Daughter [8]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Matt Murdock, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, F/M, Female Matt Murdock, Homophobia, Pregnancy, Private Investigators, Rule 63, The underage is a sixteen-year-old in a relationship with an eighteen-year-old, girl!Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRowan/pseuds/RedRowan
Summary: Jessica is hired to find a missing girl in upstate New York, and decides to bring Mattie along, if only so Mattie can keep her awake on the drive up.





	There's No Place Like...

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily based on the _Come Home_ arc from _Alias_ , by Brian Michael Bendis. Because Jessica Jones and Daredevil fangirls are too good a combination to pass up.

Most mornings these days, Foggy brushes his teeth while Mattie sits on the floor, occasionally throwing up into the toilet. It’s just like undergrad, with the roles reversed.

“Remind me again how long morning sickness is supposed to last,” Mattie groans.

“First trimester, usually,” Foggy says. He rinses out his mouth and crouches down next to her, brushing her hair back from her face. “Bad day?”

“Wind’s coming from the west, so everything smells like New Jersey,” she says, before she gags and throws up again. Foggy pulls her hair back with both hands. After a moment, Mattie sits back, and Foggy helpfully grabs the cup from the counter and fills it with water. She rinses out her mouth and spits into the toilet.

“I think that’s it for today,” she says, more out of optimism than anything else.

“You sure? Because you look like death. I say that with affection as someone who has literally seen you almost die.”

She just shakes her head as she stands up to brush her teeth. She hears Foggy getting dressed, and she staggers back into the bedroom and crawls into bed.

Mattie hates being pregnant. She hates not being in control of her own body, hates the changes she can’t predict. She hates being _tired_ all the time.

She’s barely aware of Foggy leaning over her to kiss her as he leaves. She’s instead caught in that awful not-asleep-not-awake stage that seems to be the best she can do nowadays. Seven more months of this. Her thoughts alternate between _It’ll be worth it in the end_ and _Damn you, Foggy Nelson, and your sperm_. 

She’s not sure how late it is when she hears Jessica knocking on her door. She drags herself out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants, and opens the door.

“Hey, did you catch that?” Jessica says, sweeping past her and plopping down on the little loveseat they have in the front room.

“Catch what?” Mattie says, running a hand through her hair. She forgot her glasses, so she goes back into the bedroom to get them.

“The phone call I just finished,” Jessica calls.

“You know, I don’t actually eavesdrop on your business,” Mattie says, coming back to the front room. “And I was asleep.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“I’m trying to stock up before the baby gets here,” Mattie says. Jessica is one of their few friends who knows about Mattie’s pregnancy; she’d put together the pieces from the cessation of both Mattie’s Daredevilling and her alcohol and caffeine consumption. Mattie shrugs. “What am I going to do, pick out colors for the nursery?”

“Well, then, you’re going to be super-happy about this phone call. I got a case.”

“Mazel tov.”

“It’s in Lago. Thought you might want to come with.”

“Where’s Lago?”

“Upstate, pretty close to the Canadian border.”

“And what’s in Lago?”

“Missing girl. Sixteen-year-old named Rebecca Cross. Been missing for a month, aunt just hired yours truly to find her. I told her I might need a second investigator, and she’s willing to shell out.”

“Why?”

Jessica shrugs. “Because there’s a missing girl, and we need all hands on deck? Or, all freaky superpowers on deck. That, and you’ll keep me awake on the drive up.”

“Why _are_ you driving all the way up there? You hate leaving the city.”

“Yeah, well, the aunt cared enough to hire someone…” Jessica’s voice trails off awkwardly, and Mattie can hear her picking at her sleeve. Mattie thinks of Hope Schlottman and Kilgrave. And the parts of Jessica’s history that everyone alludes to but nobody talks about.

“This is about Angela Del Toro getting that insurance case, isn’t it?” Mattie says, putting on a grin.

“We need something big to get that kind of business,” Jessica says, seizing the out. “So, you coming?”

“On a scale of one to ten, what’s the likelihood of me being injured in the abdominal area?”

“Three. Four, tops.”

Mattie frowns, and realizes she has her arms crossed in front of her stomach.

“‘C’mon,” Jessica continues, “you live in New York, that’s a baseline of two, anyway.”

“Fine. When are we leaving?”

“I just need to rent a car,” Jessica says, levering herself out of the loveseat.

“Pick me up at the courthouse after you get the car.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to tell my husband that I’m going on a roadtrip?”

“Oh, right.”

She’s pleased to note that she doesn’t throw up on the subway ride downtown; she’s had years of experience coping with the smells of the MTA, and at least it’s a brief respite from the Jersey-scented breeze. She makes her way through the courthouse to the DA’s offices, and tries not to think about hearing Reyes’ heart slow and stop and the smell of blood. A young woman offers to help her find Foggy’s office, and is audibly taken aback when Foggy kisses her hello.

“Uh, Mattie, this is Kirsten,” Foggy says. “Kirsten, my wife Mattie.”

“Oh my God, of _course_ you’re his wife!” Kirsten says.

“Have been for a while now,” Mattie says, offering her hand, which Kirsten shakes. “Thanks for all your help.”

“No problem! See you around.”

Foggy closes the door as Kirsten leaves, and Mattie starts laughing as she hears someone outside ask who’s meeting with Nelson, and Kirsten replies in a tone of awe, “That’s his _wife_.”

“Daaaaamn,” sighs the other woman.

“I assume Kirsten and Ellen are gossiping about you?” Foggy interrupts.

“Your co-workers are very nice,” Mattie says.

“Yeah, they actually are.” Foggy holds out a chair for her. “You OK? You look a lot better than you did this morning.”

“That’s why they call it ‘morning sickness.’”

“You were puking all night three days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t tell when the sun’s up, so my body’s pretty much just guessing.” He doesn’t laugh, so she leans over and takes his hand. “I’m fine. I just wanted to stop by to let you know that Jess got a case upstate, and I’m going with her to help out.”

“When you say ‘helping out’…”

“It’s a missing persons case, I’m not going to be getting into any fights. Which reminds me - the missing person’s a teenaged girl, name of Rebecca Cross. Jess is going to brief me on the ride up, but…can you keep an eye out for her name?”

“Sure, but why here?”

“Well, if she’s been kidnapped, the city’s a good place to disappear. And if it’s a runaway situation, where would you want to go?”

“Bright lights and big city. I got you.”

“Thanks.”

He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. “How long do you think you’re going to be gone?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Depends on what this case actually is. I’ll give you a call when we get into Lago tonight, let you know if I have a better idea.”

“OK. So is this a regular thing now? You and Jess working together?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s work, which nobody else is lining up to give me. And…” She shrugs.

“You like it,” he teases.

“Hey, if I can’t take out criminals, at least I can help Jess find a missing girl.”

“And in the long term? After…” _After the baby’s born?_

She shrugs. “Let’s see how it goes. Never really considered private investigation as a career path.”

Foggy chuckles. “You remember Veronica in our year?”

“The one who had all those corporate law classes with you?”

“Yeah. I saw on Facebook that she took over her dad’s PI agency out in California. So…maybe it’s not that weird.”

“‘Maybe it’s not that weird,’” Mattie repeats. “I should get Jessica to put that on her website.”

They laugh, then Foggy kisses her.

“Stay safe, kitten,” he says. “Go save the girl.”

It’s a six hour drive to Lago. On the way, in between singalongs to Jessica’s iPod (knowledge of which will never leave the car), Jessica gives Mattie the limited information she already has.

Rebecca Cross, sixteen, has been missing for a month. There has been a strong effort in the local community to find her, but no evidence has been discovered of either her whereabouts or of foul play. Rebecca’s aunt, Katherine, is the one who has hired them, with Rebecca’s mother’s consent. Rebecca’s parents, apparently, have separated since her disappearance, and Rebecca’s mother is living with Katherine.

They stop to eat at a diner next to the highway. After they’ve finished, while Jessica is using the restroom, Mattie leans against the wall outside and breathes deep. Funny, how used she is to the smells of her city. She keeps thinking she’s smelling something new, but it’s really the absence she’s noticing. The absence of the evidence of millions of people huddled on top of each other. Here, all she can smell are the diner and the cars from the highway, and the clean scent of the plant life around them.

 _How useful am I going to be?_ In the city, she can read a crime scene like braille on a page, but only because she knows its feel, its rhythm. She knows what should be there and what shouldn’t. Out here, she doesn’t know any of that.

_Maybe Jess is making a mistake._

“C’mon,” Jessica says, coming up next to her, “We got two more hours to go.”

Mattie holds out her hand. Jessica awkwardly sidles in, letting Mattie take her elbow, and leads her back to the car.

Jessica misses the turnoff for the bed and breakfast in Lago.

“Keep an eye out for Water Street,” she says, once she figures it out, and Mattie grins. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, navigation is well outside my skill set,” Mattie says.

“You mean you can’t hear the road signs or something?”

“Do you even know how my senses work?”

Jessica waves a hand. “Got the gist. Super-senses, world on fire.”

“Still doesn’t let me read road signs.”

“Shit, I think we passed it again.”

“Maybe we should -“

“No, that’s it!”

Mattie is fairly certain that however Jessica turned onto Water Street, it was…not legal.

The bed and breakfast smells of potpourri, cleaning products, and the cat who lives there. It rubs up against Jessica’s leg, and Jessica makes an annoyed little noise in her throat as she tries to step around it. Mattie crouches down and pets the cat.

“You’re not allergic, are you, dear?” the innkeeper, Carol, says.

“Just not a cat person,” Jessica drawls.

“Well, just give him a nudge, he won’t bother you.”

The cat pushes his head up into Mattie’s hand as she scratches his ears.

“Yeah, sure,” Jessica says.

Carol asks if there’s anything she can do to help Mattie. “We’ve never had a _blind guest_ , you know.”

Mattie puts on her most charming smile. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t move anything in my room while I’m here, even the furniture.”

“Oh! Of course, dear.”

Carol shows them to their rooms, and Mattie lies back on the bed. Cotton sheets. 

Cotton sheets, and she’s alone in the bed.

She calls Foggy.

“Hey, how was the drive?” he says, picking up.

“Fine. I don’t have much more information about the case, we’re meeting with the parents tomorrow.”

He sighs. “OK. Just keep me posted.”

She wishes she could hear his heartbeat.

“Miss you,” she says.

“You’ve been gone six hours.’

“I’m going to miss you. It’s weird, trying to sleep without you there.”

There’s a small pause. “At least you’ve got someone to keep you company,” he says.

Mattie lets her hand drift down, resting over the quick hum of a heartbeat inside her uterus. She smiles.

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you.”

She puts the phone down, and gently moves her hand over her lower abdomen.

“You gonna behave yourself?” she whispers. “Don’t want to be throwing up on clients tomorrow.”

She doesn’t get an answer, but she feels better for saying it.

_Yeah, we’ve only got to wait a few years before we can actually have a coherent conversation._

But she’ll admit, it’s nice not being alone.

Rebecca Cross’ parents are predictable enough. They’re each blaming the other (mother says she caught the father ogling Rebecca, father says mother is an alcoholic), and neither seems to know much about who their daughter really is. Quiet girl, they both say. Spent most of her time in her room talking to her online friends. Didn’t have many friends in Lago, no interest in boys, no after-school activities.

“She loved to draw,” Rebecca’s father, Edward, says. “She wanted to go to college for art.”

“Is her computer still here?” Jessica says.

“In her room.” He gestures toward the stairs. “Go ahead,” he says wearily. Mattie and Jessica stand up. “I know what she said,” he says bitterly. “She’s got half the town thinking I did it. But I’d _never_ hurt Becky. Never.”

“I believe you,” Mattie says.

She finds that her hand has slid across, resting just below her belly. And then, because her progeny has perfect timing -

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” she says.

“First door on the left,” he says. “Rebecca’s room is the one next to it.”

Mattie tears up the stairs as well as she can with her cane, and barely makes it to the bathroom before she’s throwing up her breakfast. While she’s occupied, she hears Jessica opening Rebecca’s door and stepping inside.

“Mattie, no offense, but I really, _really_ wish you could see right now,” Jessica says quietly in the other room.

Mattie drags herself to her feet, rinses out her mouth, and goes next door.

“What is it?” she says, leaning against the doorframe.

“So you know that photo of you that went viral?”

“Which one?”

“The boobs and butt one.”

_Of course that’s what we’re calling it._

“Yeah, I remember Foggy saying something about it.”

“She’s got a poster version of it up on the wall next to you.”

“What?” Mattie puts out her hand and feels the paper, but there’s nothing that tells her what’s printed on it. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

 _Shit._ She’s not.

“It’s not just you,” Jessica continues. “She’s got Black Widow and Scarlet Witch posters too, but…let’s just say, I think she’s a fan.” Jessica waves at the computer monitor in front of her. “Her desktop is that drawing of you from the _Bulletin_ when you took down Fisk.”

“OK, so she’s a Daredevil fan,” Mattie says. “Does that help us?”

“It might. Let’s see who her friends online were.”

“You’re going to have to talk me through whatever you find.” Mattie starts moving around the room. It smells musty; nothing has been moved in here for over a month. She can smell the small bits of food that dropped into the mess on the floor and have rotted in place.

“So, not the dad?” Jessica says absently as she clicks on the computer, plugging in a USB.

“Not the dad. Not the mom either, or the aunt. None of them are lying that they had nothing to do with it.”

“Great. Now we have to go out and _talk_ to people.”

Mattie sits on the bed and sniffs. She reaches under the boxspring, through a tear in the thin fabric bottom, and pulls out the small wooden box that was wedged up under it; the smell of stale weed drifts lazily from the box.

“What you got?” Jessica says.

“Her weed stash. Or where it used to be.” Mattie opens the box, and, as she suspected, it’s empty.

“Well, I’ve got her on a few pro-vigilante websites. Daredevil fangirls, some anti-Accords stuff,” Jessica says.

Mattie gets down on the floor and feels around under the boxspring. Mattie can feel another slash where something else might have been hidden, but it’s empty. She can’t smell anything to indicate what it might have been.

“She was posting some of her artwork…and yup, it’s mostly of you.” Jessica pauses, clicking. “She doesn’t really have the face right, but that’s not really her fault. And she’s drawing your tits bigger than they are, but she’s got your ass down.”

“Let’s move on from playing art critic,” Mattie says, standing up.

“Hey, see if you can find any sketchbooks, or notebooks, or something like that. These are all scanned copies, she must have the originals somewhere.”

Mattie starts rooting through Rebecca’s belongings, but anything promising that she finds turns out to be school notes. She also takes note that Rebecca’s phone charger is still plugged into the wall next to her bed, but the phone is nowhere to be found.

“Check the drawers, let me know what you find,” Jessica says. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jessica says quickly.

“Jess.”

“It’s a bit racy.”

Mattie rolls her eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to offend my delicate sensibilities.”

“You _are_ Catholic.”

“Just tell me.”

“You making out with Natasha Romanoff. There’s…not a lot of clothes.”

Mattie shrugs. “Sounds kind of hot. Send Foggy the link, I’m pretty sure he’s _had_ that fantasy at some point.”

Jessica sighs. “Not even going to ask,” she mutters. “The caption says this is a gift for a user named Flaxen.”

“It recent?” Mattie is rifling through Rebecca’s clothes. “The drawers seem pretty full, but it’s hard to tell if anything’s missing.”

“Posted the week before she disappeared. Didn’t see Flaxen mentioned in any of her other posts, but…” Jessica clicks, then chuckles. “Yeah. Flaxen is a fanfic writer. Ships you with Black Widow, which is apparently -“

“Relevance?”

“I’m going to see if Flaxen has heard from Rebecca recently,” Jessica says, tapping on her phone. She types what sounds like a short message, then puts the phone back in her pocket.

“They’ve probably never even met in person,” Mattie says, but she’s frowning, feeling an idea just out of her grasp.

“Probably. And it looks like this picture’s just an illustration for one of Flaxen’s stories, but…”

Mattie grasps what Jessica is hinting.

“It’s a thought,” she says. “But let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Not yet.”

“And given how her parents talked about boys, I’m guessing that if that’s the case, they don’t know.”

Jessica tugs the USB out of the computer.

“Think that’s about as much as we’ll get off that,” she says.

“Where to next?”

“Sheriff’s department, see what the official investigation turned up.”

Mattie nods. Sound strategy.

Edward is cracking open a can of beer as they come down the stairs. It’s eleven in the morning. Mattie remembers being that person.

“We’re going to do everything we can to find her, Mr Cross,” Mattie says quietly.

Edward doesn’t answer.

“Hey,” Jessica says, “was her toothbrush still in the bathroom when she disappeared?”

Edward stops mid-drink. He lowers the can.

“Yeah, it was,” he says.

The thought Mattie had been chasing up in the bedroom clicks into place. Rebecca’s phone, drawings, and weed were gone, which Mattie would take to mean that Rebecca had left willingly. But if her toothbrush and charger were left behind…

“Thanks. We’ll be in touch,” Jessica says, guiding Mattie out the door.

In the car, Jessica agrees with Mattie’s assessment, but cautions her against leaping to conclusions.

“Don’t obsess over details,” she says. “The world doesn’t work like _CSI_ or Sherlock Holmes. Patterns are more useful than anything.”

Mattie nods.

The Lago Sheriff’s Department seems to be made up of the sheriff, one deputy (Chris, approximately eighteen), and a dog (indeterminate age). Jessica sighs as the dog sniffs at her.

“Hey, hey, leave the lady alone,” the deputy says, tugging at the dog’s leash. “Sorry, ma’am, he’s real friendly to strangers.”

“Seems kind of counter-productive, if he’s supposed to come along on a drug bust, or something,” Mattie says.

“Oh, we don’t get a lot of that sorta thing ‘round here, ma’am. He’s more of a mascot, really, and the kids love him.” The deputy scritches behind the dog’s ears, and Mattie can hear its tail smacking the floor as it wags.

“Where’s the sheriff?” Jessica snaps.

“Right behind you,” comes a voice. The sheriff is somewhere around the same age as Jessica, and he’s carrying two cups of bitter coffee in a cardboard tray. Mattie stifles a groan at the smell as he puts it down in front of the deputy. “That one’s yours,” he says to the deputy, taking his own from the tray. “You must be the PIs from New York. Katie Mercer was talking about you all day yesterday.”

Katie Mercer is Rebecca’s aunt. Jessica swears under her breath.

“Yeah, well, don’t go spreading it around. It’s best if people don’t know we’re here,” she says.

The deputy laughs. “You’re not serious? _Everyone_ knew you were coming after Katie got off the phone with you.”

Jessica turns her head to the sheriff, who shrugs. “It’s a small town,” he says. “Sean Rowland.” He offers Jessica his hand.

“Jessica Jones,” Jessica snaps after a moment. “This is Mattie Murdock.”

“Nice to meet you ladies. I guess you want to go over the files? Uh…”

“I have some questions to ask while Jess is going over the files,” Mattie says.

“…Right. Yeah. Why don’t we go into my office?” He hovers, awkwardly, until Jessica wraps Mattie’s hand around her elbow and steers her into the office. Sean opens a filing cabinet and puts the folder in front of Jessica, who immediately starts flipping through it.

“So, uh, Ms Murdock, what were the questions you wanted to ask?” he says, sitting behind his desk.

The dog pads into the office, and sniffs at Mattie’s knee. She strokes its head, enjoying the soft feel of its fur.

“We noticed that Rebecca’s phone charger was left in her room,” Mattie says. “Did you try the GPS on her phone?”

“Yeah. Somebody had picked it up in the parking lot outside the Krispy Kreme and turned it in - the manager had it in her office. And before you ask, there is video of Rebecca buying a coffee there just before 4pm on the 13th.”

“And that’s the last known sighting?”

“Yeah. Parents never noticed if she came home, said she’d stay out late sometimes, they didn’t worry too much.”

“Did Rebecca have a passport?”

“No. We put an alert out to the Canadians, just in case she tried to cross the border, but no luck. She didn’t have a credit card, so nothing to flag there, and her bank account didn’t have much to begin with.”

“Did you find any of her drawings when you searched her room?”

“Not in her room, but I think there might have been a few in her locker at the school. Honestly, though, we were more focussed on trying to track her movements. You know, publicity campaign, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, we saw the billboard,” Jessica says, closing the file.

“Well, _you_ did,” Mattie says.

“Take it that was the mom?”

“Susan?” Sean says. “No. She’s…”

“She thinks Edward was involved,” Mattie says.

Sean pauses. “Yeah,” he says reluctantly. “We don’t have any evidence -“

“We talked to him this morning,” Jessica interrupts. “Pretty sure he wasn’t.”

Sean nods. “The billboard was Katie, and the reverend. The church took up a collection for it.”

“Was Rebecca very involved with the church?” Mattie says.

“Nah. Kind of a weird kid, if you ask around, but they might not say that now that…”

“Now that she’s missing,” Jessica says.

“Yeah. Chris’ brother is in her class - he’ll talk to you, if you want.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Sean shrugs defensively.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need.” There’s a hopeful note to his voice, and Mattie can’t help but recognize the faint scent of attraction. But she’s had a lifetime of experience ignoring that.

Lago only has one real restaurant, which doubles as its one bar. Mattie eats some surprisingly good chicken tenders while Jessica knocks back two shots of whiskey with her cheeseburger. The scent of whiskey makes Mattie’s stomach turn, at the same time as it reminds her that she can’t have a drink for seven more months. More, if she breastfeeds the baby.

God, she misses whiskey.

“So, we’ll hit the school next, see if we can get some of the kids to talk about Rebecca,” Jessica says.

Mattie hums her agreement, lost in thought.

 _I don’t trust him. I don’t like him_ , Susan had said of Edward. They’ve been married nineteen years, and now Susan talks about her family as if they were three strangers living under the same roof.

Mattie rubs her thumb against her wedding ring and wishes she weren’t so far from home.

At the school, the principal opens Rebecca’s locker, and Jessica finds two sketchbooks that they ask to take with them. The teachers all describe Rebecca in similar terms: bright, but not an exceptional student, and a talented artist. And lonely. From the students, Mattie and Jessica get a sharper picture. Rebecca had no close friends, and was generally seen as a weird, geeky girl. Reading between the lines, Mattie concludes she was probably bullied. Dave, the deputy’s brother, admits that there was a rumor that Rebecca was a lesbian.

“She told Ken she was when he wouldn’t stop asking her out,” he says.

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Mattie says.

Dave shrugs. “Why would she lie about that if she wasn’t?”

“What’d you get?” Mattie says as Jessica approaches her from behind a little while later. She hears Jessica sigh.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Jessica says.

“Well, I can’t fight or drink, so I have to make my own fun,” Mattie says, turning with a grin.

“Most of the kids think Rebecca’s gay,” Jessica says. “None of them really seem to know her.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that feeling. Did get one lead, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Girl says she used to see Rebecca next town over during the summer. Didn’t know what she was doing there, but might be worth checking into.”

“Huh. Yeah, good call.” Jessica turns and starts walking back to her car.

“Also, I don’t think this town is terribly enlightened about gay people,” Mattie continues.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Physical reactions when they talked about the rumors about Rebecca. The possibility of her being a lesbian actually made some of them react with disgust.”

“Think any of them might have wanted to hurt her?”

“Sure,” Mattie says grimly as they reach the car. “But I don’t think any of the ones I talked to did.” She opens the car door. “None of them were acting guilty enough. Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or aroused enough,” Mattie finishes bitterly, wishing she didn’t know what she does about humanity.

“Fuck,” Jessica says quietly as they climb into the car. “I should’ve had you talk to all of them.”

“We covered more ground by splitting up,” Mattie points out.

Jessica turns the key in the ignition. “Yeah, but _you’ve_ got more than I do,” she grumbles. The car starts to move. Mattie shrugs.

“I wouldn’t doubt your intuition, either,” she says, trying to lighten the mood. “And if we find an actual suspect, I’m right here.”

Jessica taps a little tattoo on the steering wheel.

“Too bad you can’t track her by smell,” she says. “Wait, can you? We can get something of hers -“

“I’m not a bloodhound, Jess.” _And it’s been over a month._

“I’m just saying…”

Mattie laughs.

“What, you think I’m going to be some magical blind PI?” she giggles.

“That sounds like a really shitty TV show,” Jessica says. The snarky edge of her voice sounds a little softer. “But, you know, if you want to…make this a regular thing…there’s enough work to go around.”

“I can’t exactly help you take photos of cheating spouses.”

“Maybe not the photos, but you can tail them.”

Mattie pauses, considering. “Jess, do you _want_ me to work for you?”

Jessica shrugs. “I mean, you know, it’s up to you.” She taps on the steering wheel. “And Malcolm’s going back to school in the fall, and I keep getting all these phone calls, and I know you’re not due until, what, January?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I mean…” Jessica gives a one-shouldered shrug. It seems to be as much of an invitation as Jessica will give.

“Let’s see how well we do with this case, first,” Mattie says.

The next town over is a half-hour drive from Lago. It’s much bigger (though still a small town), and Jessica declares it an improvement over Lago, since “I don’t feel like I’ve been dropped into 1978.” They wander along the main drag, showing Rebecca’s picture, and some of the cashiers or store owners recognize her as the missing girl. A few even remember her from the summer last year.

“She used to have a friend with her,” one offers. “Blonde girl.” But nothing more than that.

“We should check out the school here tomorrow,” Jessica says as they start driving back to Lago. “See if anyone knows who our blonde girl is.”

“Or maybe the sheriff knows who she is.”

Jessica makes a skeptical noise.

She’s less skeptical when Sean plunks himself down at their table in the restaurant/bar while Jessica is describing the drawings in the sketchbooks she took from Rebecca’s locker.

“She was spending time with a blonde girl the next town over over the summer,” Jessica says.

“I know,” Sean says. “Cassandra Winston.”

Mattie hears Jessica’s hair brush against her shoulders as she double-takes.

“What do you know about her?” Mattie says as Jessica collects herself.

Sean shrugs. “She probably didn’t kidnap Rebecca, if that’s what you mean. She moved to the city in the fall, taking Creative Writing at ESU.” _Creative writing?_ “She said she talked to Rebecca online, but hadn’t seen her since Christmas.”

Jessica makes a little “huh” sound that sounds grudgingly impressed.

“What can you tell us about the church here?” Mattie says.

Sean shifts uncomfortably and leans back.

“So you heard about that, too?” he says.

“We’re good at our jobs,” Jessica snaps.

“Didn’t think you weren’t.” Sean waves a hand at a passing waitress, who nods. “Lago’s always been pretty…conservative. But Reverend Colt is…”

“A little homophobic?” Jessica says.

“More than a little,” Sean admits, and he actually sounds rueful. “And it sucks when it’s somebody who knows how to work a crowd. I can’t help feeling bad for the kids, listening to that -“

“Kids like Rebecca?”

“Some of them thought so. I don’t know. It’s her business, in my opinion. But a town like this…not everyone thinks something like that is your own damn business.” The waitress puts a glass of beer down in front of Sean, and Mattie stifles a sigh. “Thanks, Carrie. And I’ve been all up in Rebecca’s business for almost a month. You know what I found? She was a lonely kid that nobody seemed to know. Didn’t seem to care much about anything.”

“Except art,” Jessica says.

“Yeah.” He flips open one of the sketchbooks. “For some reason, this girl, whats-her-name, Daredevil, she meant something to Rebecca. Maybe it was just a crush. Maybe it was something else.”

_Maybe it was a connection to other people._

“What do you think that something else was?” Jessica says, and Mattie can hear the slide of her finger against her glass.

Sean shrugs. “What Daredevil represented? Maybe she liked her because she fights back. Maybe it was the mystery.”

“Or maybe it was the leather,” Jessica says, and her voice is getting huskier.

Sean chuckles. “She does wear it well.”

“Yeah, OK, I’m gonna head back to the B & B,” Mattie says hurriedly.

“You know your way back?” Jessica says.

“My phone has GPS, I’ll be fine.” Mattie rifles through her wallet and hands Jessica enough to cover her dinner.

“OK. See you back there.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

The cat greets her at the door of the B & B just as her phone rings Foggy’s name.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says as she unlocks the outer door and makes her way to her room.

“So, why is Jessica sending me porn of you with Natasha Romanoff?” he says.

“I told her to. I thought you might be getting lonely without me.” Mattie shuts the door to her room behind her.

“You’ve been gone two days.”

“And I’ve missed you every minute of them.”

“You realize she didn’t warn me it was not safe for work?”

“Let me guess - you opened it at work?”

“Anyone could have seen. _Blake_ could have seen.”

“I take it nobody did.” She flops back on the bed.

“Not the point. And where did you find it, anyway?”

“The missing girl - she drew it.”

“Oh.” She can hear him open a bottle. “How’s that going?”

“Fine. I think we have some leads. Are you drinking beer?”

“You said that if you weren’t there, I could drink.”

Mattie sighs. “What does it taste like?”

“Anything I say is going to be completely inadequate, Miss I-can-taste-three-different-dairies.”

“Try? For me?”

She hears him take a drink. “Citrus, at the start. Then hops. Then a bitterness as you swallow.”

Mattie breathes deep and tries to imagine it. “I totally want to make out with you right now.”

“You just can’t resist that Foggy Nelson flavor.”

“That is a terrible line, and it is absolutely true.”

They laugh, and she hears Foggy take a drink and pause. “Is Jessica there?” he says, a little too casually.

“She’s at the bar with the sheriff here. I think she likes him. I’m back at the B & B.”

“Right.” He doesn’t say anything else.

“What?” she says.

“Well, I thought you sending me an exquisitely rendered drawing of a woman who looks almost, but not quite, entirely unlike you, with very little clothes on, was kind of a hint.”

“Oh, you thought that?”

“Yeah, I thought that.”

Mattie’s free hand has been trailing over her breast.

“Foggy?” she says, a little breathy.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

He tells her. By the time he’s done, she’s naked and sprawled out on the bed, listening to him come on his end of the line.

“I should let you get some sleep,” she says, after they’ve both had a moment to catch their breath.

“Yeah, good idea. Oh, shit!”

“What?”

“Blake moved me to night shifts, starting tomorrow. I’m…really sorry, but there’s not much -”

“It’s OK, you need to pay your dues. And I can barely sleep these days anyway, so we’ll probably be awake at the same time.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. This isn’t permanent, is it?”

“No, he said just a few months.”

“See? No big deal.”

“I love you, kitten.”

“Love you too.”

She drops the phone on the bedside table and drifts off to sleep smiling.

“Unknown number. Unknown number.”

Mattie groans and picks up the phone. Her mouth tastes greasy from the burger she had for dinner.

“Mattie Murdock,” she slurs.

“Hi, uh, Mattie, it’s Sean? From the sheriff’s department?” Sean sounds a little worse for wear.

_Idiot probably tried to keep up with Jessica._

“Hi, what’s going on?” she says.

“Uh, well, Jessica said you were her lawyer?”

Mattie bites back a sigh as she sits up. “What happened?”

“She’s fine, she’s just down here at the station, need you to come pick her up.”

Mattie feels around the bed for the blouse she’d discarded while she was on the phone with Foggy. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

It’s a fifteen minute walk to the station, guided by her GPS app. There’s another deputy, this one older than Sean, at the front desk, and Sean smelling of beer and Jessica. Sean thanks her for coming and leads her (a little unsteadily) down the hall. Mattie doesn’t ask what happened.

Then Sean pulls out a key and starts unlocking the cells.

“You screwed her and dumped her in the drunk tank?!” Mattie says.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let her stay at my house,” Sean says.

Mattie wants to punch him.

“You’re an asshole,” she says instead. “Jess?” There’s a mumble from inside the cell. Mattie sighs and goes in to where Jessica is face down on the bench, putting on a show of navigating with her cane. She crouches down and shakes Jessica’s shoulder. “Jess, wake up.”

“Mattie?”

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s get you up.” For all her strength, Jessica doesn’t weigh very much. She doesn’t try to fight, just flops onto Mattie.

“Wher’m I?”

“Sheriff’s department. That dick you were hitting on dropped you in the drunk tank. I’m taking you back to the B & B.”

“Did I fuck him?”

“Don’t know,” Mattie lies. “Pretty sure he didn’t deserve it if you did.”

“He’s an asshole. But a _hot_ asshole.” Jessica’s prodding Mattie with the tip of her finger, which hurts quite a bit.

“Sure, Jess.”

“Get home safe, ladies,” the deputy says without irony as they step out into the night. Mattie suppresses the urge to flip him the bird. Instead, she pulls out her phone and tells it to give her the directions back to the B & B. She shoves it into her back pocket, since one arm is occupied holding up Jessica, and the other is holding her cane.

“Turn left,” her phone tells her.

“Your ass is talking,” Jessica observes.

“Yup, sure is,” Mattie says, turning left.

“It’s a nice ass, though,” Jessica says casually.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Foggy tell you?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Jessica nods. “He’s a good guy. Only one I know.”

“That’s not true,” Mattie says, thinking of Luke and Malcolm.

Jessica snorts. “Yeah. Luke. And I fucked that up before I started. So maybe I deserve the assholes.”

“No, you don’t,” Mattie says quietly. _Because if I can marry someone like Foggy, then anything’s possible._

“You’re so Catholic,” Jessica says. She doesn’t explain what she means.

Mattie gets Jessica back to the B & B without incident, and leaves her on her bed with the wastepaper basket beside her. Then she stumbles back to her own room and throws up from the stale-beer scent.

In the morning, Jessica moans quietly in the next room and doesn’t leave the bed, so Mattie follows the niggling idea that she’d half-formed last night, and googles “Flaxen Daredevil Black Widow.” Flaxen’s Tumblr comes up first, and Mattie follows some of the links to Flaxen’s stories. The more recent ones are shorter, mostly plotless pieces about Daredevil and Black Widow meeting cute or saving each other’s lives or having sex. Interspersed with the stories are posts apologizing for not posting as often as usual, making vague references to coursework eating up time.

Mattie finds a story posted in February, entitled _Pas de Deux_. It was posted Valentine’s Day, actually, and there’s a note dedicating it to “my one and only.” It’s a longer story, set at ESU, about uptight dance student Natasha Romanoff, who meets a winsome freshman named Lucy, a free-spirited parkour enthusiast nicknamed Daredevil. Mattie listens to the whole thing, and it’s actually pretty romantic (it helps that she doesn’t really have to think of Lucy as a depiction of herself). But two things stand out: first, Flaxen has clearly spent time on the ESU campus. The descriptions are too detailed, too specific. Second, the explicit sex scene was almost definitely written by a woman with experience sleeping with other women.

 _All of which is circumstantial._ It may be a coincidence.

Mattie doesn’t believe in coincidences.

While she’s waiting for Jessica to recover, Mattie walks down to the church. Half a block away, she can hear the reverend alone inside, rehearsing his homily.

“…but God created man and he created woman, and bid us to be fruitful and multiply. And let us not forget in Leviticus, His command…oh, hello.”

Mattie leans against the frame of the door. People assume a lot about her Catholic orphanage upbringing, but none of them have met Sister Magdalena. Or realize that the majority of the older kids taken in by St Agnes’ are on their own because they’re LGBT.

“‘Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman,”” Mattie says. “That was what you were going to say next, right?”

“Yes,” the reverend says, coming down the aisle to her. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a new congregant, Miss…?”

“It’s funny,” she says, “since it comes on the heels of fifteen verses against incest. I mean, the Israelites were _really_ specific about the whole incest thing, but homosexuality? That was about on par with having sex with a woman on her period.” She affects a shrug. “Yet somehow you don’t hear a lot of preaching about that.” She smiles. “Oh, and when I have sex with women, it’s definitely not the same as when I have sex with men.”

She hears his heartrate increase at that, and smells a spike of arousal that turns her stomach. _Hypocrite._

“Is that all?” he snaps.

“Rebecca Cross,” she says. “She come here often?”

There’s a pause.

“You’re the private investigator. The one Katie hired,” he says.

“That’s my partner. Answer the question.”

“She’d only be here when her parents forced her,” he bites out reluctantly.

“Good. I’d hate to think of her having to hear that shit that comes out of your mouth week after week.” She steps forward, and he takes a step back. “Believe me, if we find out that this dog and pony show you’re putting on had anything to do with what happened to her -“

“What? Wait - why would this have anything to do with -“

“Kids talk. Spread rumours about the ones who’re different. And they try to put the worst label they can think of on the ones who’re defenceless. And thanks to you, the worst thing they could think of was ‘gay.’” She takes another step in. “So think very long and very hard about what they might have thought of doing to a girl they thought was a lesbian.” She lets the moment hang there. “May the Lord open your heart to His love and acceptance of all His children.”

She doesn’t hit him. She walks away. Then she throws up on the church steps, which she decides is karma.

She orders lunch from the bar/restaurant. The woman manning the bar helpfully lists the sandwiches on the menu, then pauses.

“Is this for your friend? The dark-haired girl? Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean -“

“Yeah, my friend. I know she has dark hair,” Mattie says. “Yeah, I’ll grab one for her, too.”

“Well, if she’s feeling a little…uh…”

“Under the weather?”

“Allan makes a really good fried egg sandwich. It’s great when you’re…under the weather.”

Mattie smiles. “That sounds great. Can I get two?”

While she’s waiting for them to be made, she hears Sean coming through the door.

“Uh, Mattie, right?” he says.

“Get lost,” she says.

“Is Jessica around?”

“She’s fine, no thanks to you.”

“Look, uh, I really feel bad -“

“Go with that, then.”

“Can you tell her I want to talk to her?”

“No.”

“I just want to apologize.”

“For what? Screwing her or dumping her in the drunk tank?”

“Look, I’d had a few drinks, I’ll admit that I wasn’t thinking straight -“

“Here’re your sandwiches, dear,” the bartender says, pushing the paper bag into Mattie’s hand.

“Thank you,” she says. Sean puts a hand on her arm to stop her from leaving, and she easily twists it around, trapping it against her side. “Just accept that you were an asshole, and move on,” she snaps, releasing his arm. _Besides, Trish Walker would never forgive me if I let you near Jessica again._ She strides out.

Jessica is moving around her room when Mattie gets back, so Mattie knocks on her door. She’s relieved that when Jessica opens it, she smells like she’s showered and brushed her teeth.

“Where’ve you been?” Jessica says without malice.

“Checking out the locals. And I brought you a fried egg sandwich.”

“Fuck seeing how the case ends. I’m hiring you.” Jessica turns away from the door and flops down on the bed.

“Sean wants to apologize,” Mattie says, putting one of the sandwiches down next to Jessica. “I told him to shove it.”

Jessica chuckles. “You’re just like Trish.”

“I consider that a compliment.”

Jessica sits up and takes a bite of the sandwich. Mattie does the same, and the bartender didn’t lie. It is a great sandwich.

“Who’d you talk to?” Jessica says around her mouthful.

“Just the reverend. Just as homophobic as we thought. Nearly punched him in the church.” She takes another bite. “Do you think anyone would suspect if I beat him up tonight?”

“Thought you weren’t Daredevilling anymore. Because of the…”

Mattie shrugs. “I doubt he’d put up much of a fight.”

“Foggy wouldn’t approve.”

“Foggy would understand.” Foggy, of all people, would understand her need to beat up a horrific homophobe.

“Foggy _might_ understand, but he’d be pissed at me for letting you do it.”

Mattie grins around a bite of sandwich. “And we wonder why he and Trish got on so well.”

“Fucking nightmare, the two of them.”

They laugh into their sandwiches.

“There’s one more thing,” Mattie says. “I went through Flaxen’s Tumblr. If she’s not Cassandra Winston, I’d be shocked.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“We know Cassandra’s taking Creative Writing at ESU. Flaxen mentions going to college in a post in September, and her writing is actually pretty good. I’m also pretty sure she’s spent some time on the ESU campus - she wrote a story set there that was pretty detailed.” Mattie takes another bite. “And she’s definitely at least bi.”

“Yeah?”

“Trust me on that one.”

“OK. I’ll buy that Cassandra is Flaxen. But if she’s been in the city since September, even if she is dating Rebecca, how’s she involved?”

“Maybe Rebecca went to New York to be with her.”

Jessica sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“Occam’s Razor. Rebecca’s a lesbian in a homophobic town, so she splits to be with her girlfriend.”

“Yeah. I came up with that one, too.” Jessica takes a bite of sandwich. “Follow that logic. She’s leaving, doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s run away, so she takes what matters, her sketchbooks, her weed, a few clothes, but not everything, and leaves behind her toothbrush and dumps her phone to throw people off.”

“Toothbrushes are cheap, and she probably didn’t want the phone’s GPS leading anyone to her.”

“The -“ Jessica groans quietly, “- sheriff’s report said that there weren’t any messages on her phone that they felt were significant.”

“Maybe we should get a look at her phone.”

“Ugh,” Jessica says articulately. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Sorry.”

They bully Deputy Chris into letting them have a look at the phone; Sean is not in the Sheriff’s office. Jessica scrolls though the messages.

“Cassandra’s messages end just after New Year’s,” she says. “‘I’m here.’ Real romantic.”

“It can be, depending on the context.”

Jessica puts the phone down.

“What if she got a second phone?” she says.

“What, a burner?”

“Yeah. Didn’t want Mom and Dad to know she was a lesbian, so she got a burner so she could sext Cassandra to her heart’s content.”

Mattie shrugs. “Speculation.”

Jessica starts typing on her own phone.

“What are you looking up?” Mattie says.

“ESU’s finals schedule.” It takes more than a moment, but eventually, Jessica makes a triumphant noise. “Creative Writing’s last finals were three days before Rebecca disappeared.”

“Still circumstantial.”

“We need to talk to Cassandra.”

“Google SuperCon 2017 for me,” Mattie says.

“What?”

“Just do it.”

There’s some tapping on Jessica’s phone. “OK, what am I looking for?”

“Panel called Female Representation and Sexuality in Fanfiction.”

More tapping. “OK, found it.”

“Flaxen posted that she’d be on the panel. Who’s listed?”

There’s a pause. “It just says Flaxen.”

“Damn.” She’d thought she was onto something. “She’d also posted that she’d be at a booth in the artists’ alley.”

“The con starts tomorrow,” Jessica says. “We still don’t know she’s Cassandra.”

“Every instinct I have says she is,” Mattie says. “And you didn’t just hire me for my senses.”

Jessica nods. “We can be back in the city by tonight.”

They are. Jessica drops Mattie at their building before she parks the car (they’ll need it tomorrow), and Mattie forages some leftovers from the fridge before pulling one of Foggy’s shirts out of the laundry and falling asleep wrapped in the scent of him.

She hears him come in early in the morning. He leans over her and kisses her hair.

“Hey, kitten,” he whispers.

She smiles.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmurs, letting him kiss her lips.

“You hungry?” he says. “I’m gonna make some breakfast.”

“That sounds amazing.”

She brushes her teeth (and throws up and brushes her teeth again) to the smell of bacon and eggs and butter and cheese. She cocks her head as she listens to Foggy moving around the kitchen.

“What happened to your back?” she says.

“What?”

She puts her hand on his tense muscles. “It’s hurting you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Shitty government-issue office chair. It’s fine.” But he rolls his shoulders, and she can hear his spine crack. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blades.

“Missed you,” she says.

He stops for a moment. “Missed you too,” he says, squeezing her hand.

He’s made breakfast sandwiches: fried eggs (cooked solid, in deference to the baby), bacon, cheddar, on English muffins. They drink juice, since Foggy wants to sleep, and she can’t have caffeine. She washes the dishes, and tells him to lie down without his shirt and pants.

“You going to ravish me?” he says.

“Yes. Tenderly.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘ravish’ means.”

“Just get your ass on the bed.”

He complies. She kneels next to him on the bed, and turns him over onto his stomach. She starts kneading his shoulders, and he gives out a long groan, somewhere between pleasure and pain.

“Don’t stop,” he says.

She smirks and keeps going. She relishes the feel of his skin under her hands as she works her way down his back, feeling the muscles relax under her ministrations.

“You’re the best wife,” he says, sounding almost drunk.

“Probably not,” she says, digging her knuckles into a particularly tough knot. He moans, then he’s practically purring as she tends to the newly-relaxed muscle with long strokes.

“The _best_ wife.”

She slips her fingertips under the waistband of his boxers, and pulls them down before she starts massaging his ass and thighs. Seriously, the sounds Foggy is making are practically pornographic, and she’s getting wet with just his skin under her hands and his moans in her ears. She’s not the only one turned on, either.

She works her way down his legs, and she doesn’t think she’s mistaken to think his moaning sounds a little disappointed.

She works out the kinks in his feet (“Oh, my God, don’t stop”), then goes to wash her hands, telling him not to move. While she’s in the bathroom, she lets his shirt drop from her shoulders and slips off her underwear. Naked, she goes back into the bedroom, and straddles his ass. She leans down and runs her tongue over the edge of his ear, and feels him shudder between her thighs.

“Tease,” he manages.

“Turn over.”

She lifts herself up just enough so he can twist around, and settles herself on his thighs, his hard cock in front of her. She slides her hand down it once, grinning, before she leans down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around her, holding her against him to kiss, but she slips down, kissing his neck, then his chest, his nipples, his belly, until she’s taking him in her mouth.

“Wait, wait,” he says (gasps, really), tugging at her shoulder. She lifts her head.

“You OK?”

“‘Course. Better than OK. But…” He’s pulling her up his body, and she crawls up to kiss him. “I think it would be better if you sat on my face to do that.”

She pulls back so he can see her face.

“You’re so romantic,” she says dryly.

“Sometimes the muse takes me.”

She laughs and kisses him, and maneuvers herself so that she’s straddling his face as she leans forward to suck him. Foggy takes longer to come than she does, but he diligently keeps working his tongue on her, until she comes a second time, just before he does. He falls asleep wrapped around her, his gentle snoring as soothing to her as the sound of his heart.

 _How can you build a life with someone, only to wake up and realize you don’t trust them?_ Mattie’s hand slips down to rest over the hum of the baby’s heartbeat.

 _I know you_ , he’d said, the night he’d proposed to her. He knows her better than anyone, all her secrets. All the flaws he’s forgiven.

She has that forbidden thought, about the incident they don’t talk about. _He killed a man to protect you._

She listens to her baby’s heartbeat, and knows that Foggy would do the same for it. Whoever it turns out to be.

She presses herself closer to him, and lets herself feel safe.

SuperCon is a smaller convention, taking place in a hotel in the Bronx. It’s geared towards enthusiasts of superheroes. The Avengers were the starting point for the fandom, but it’s expanded to include (Mattie sighs) masked vigilantes, gifted individuals, and popular culture surrounding them.

Mattie and Jessica try to walk into the convention ballrooms, but are almost immediately stopped by volunteers.

“Sorry, con members only,” they say politely.

Jessica pulls out her PI licence.

“Private investigators. We’re looking for Flaxen.”

“Sorry, don’t know her. But, uh, I guess you can go in?” The poor volunteer is about sixteen, and clearly intimidated by Jessica’s official-looking ID.

Jessica sweeps a program off the table as they pass, and starts flipping through it.

“Flaxen’s panel should be finishing in about ten minutes,” she says. “Probably best to wait for her in Artists’ Alley.” She holds the program book up, then turns it. “Which is over this way.” She steers Mattie to the right. “Oh, there’s a panel later on Daredevil’s Secret Identity.”

“Great.” Mattie pauses. “We’re not going.”

“You’d blow their minds.”

“Their minds are better un-blown.”

Artists’ Alley is in one of the hotel ballrooms. It’s crowded with con-goers shopping and chatting. Jessica snorts as Mattie almost runs into a woman wearing head to toe leather.

“Well, your leather getup was very popular,” Jessica says.

“What?”

“We’ve passed at least three women dressed up as you. In the catsuit.”

Mattie almost groans. “I should have never let Melvin put that on me,” she mutters.

“Oh, my God, that is the _best_ Jessica Jones cosplay!” crows a girl’s voice.

“Excuse me?” Jessica says.

“I’m so glad someone else dressed up as her! Can I take a picture with you?” The girl is maybe twenty. Mattie leans against a table behind her to keep herself from laughing.

“No.”

“Oh, sorry,” the girl says. “Where’d you get your jacket? It’s so hard to find the right one.”

“Goodwill,” Jessica lies.

Non-plussed, the girl turns to Mattie. “Sorry, who are you dressed as?”

“Just me,” Mattie says. “Private investigator, with Alias Investigations. We’re looking for Flaxen?”

“Alias…” The girl’s heartrate skyrockets. “Wait, does that mean…”

“In the flesh,” Jessica says. “You know where we can find Flaxen?”

“Is she the one who did the femslash panel?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Mattie says.

“She’s the next aisle over, at the far end.”

“Thanks.” She reaches out, and Jessica shoves her elbow into her hand.

“I’m a _huge_ fan,” the girl says.

“I can tell,” Jessica says, leading Mattie away. They turn the corner, and Jessica stops. “Well, that was easy.”

“What?”

“Rebecca’s manning the booth.” She pulls her elbow out of Mattie’s grip. “Stay here. She might run if she gets spooked. Cut her off if she tries to run this way.”

“How am I -“ Mattie tries to protest, but Jessica is already circling around the other way. She sighs. She listens to Jessica working her way down the other aisle, and tries to blend in by going to the booth next to her, which turns out to be selling chainmail jewelry. Mattie runs her hand over some of the pieces, listening as Jessica approaches the booth.

“Rebecca,” she says.

“Fuck - you found me!” says one of the girls at the booth, clearly Rebecca herself.

“And Cassandra, I presume?”

“What do you want?” says the other girl. Mattie starts making her way down the aisle.

“Shit, don’t you know who she is?” Rebecca whispers.

“Your girlfriend is a runaway minor,” Jessica says. “Her parents hired me to find her and bring her home.”

“I don’t give two shits,” Cassandra says. “She’s not going back to _that_.”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

“Like hell.”

Rebecca has inched out from behind the table, and starts fleeing towards Mattie. Mattie, feeling guilty to all hell, lets the tip of her cane slide out, and Rebecca trips over it, sprawling on her face. Mattie kneels down and takes her arm.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” she says, “but you do need to come with us.”

A “fuck you” dies on Rebecca’s lips as she turns and looks Mattie in the face.

“Oh, my God, you’re Mattie Murdock,” she says instead.

Yes? “How do you know who I am?”

“The Fisk case? The Punisher trial? Of course I know who you are!” Rebecca tries to wrench her arm out of Mattie’s grip, but Mattie holds firm. “Don’t make me go back.”

“I know it sucks,” Mattie says. “But it’s going to be easier if you go back and face them. Trust me. We can talk about it on the drive back, and we can bring Cassandra too. But you do need to go back.” She’s distracted by the sound of a table collapsing. Mattie swears inside her head. “Also, I need you to help me stop Jessica and Cassandra from destroying the booth.” She releases Rebecca’s arm and offers her hand. “Deal?”

“OK,” Rebecca says, shaking her hand. They stand up, just as hotel security arrives to try to separate Jessica and Cassandra. Mattie manages to talk them out of calling the police, and the four of them are left standing in front of the booth.

“We’re not leaving until the end of the day,” Cassandra says, after Jessica has declared that Rebecca has to go with them, and Mattie has extended the offer to bring Cassandra as well (Jessica gave a little “ugh” but didn’t object). “We need to sell our shit to make our money back.”

“Fine,” Jessica snaps.

Which is how Jessica and Mattie wind up helping Cassandra and Rebecca man their booth. They’re selling Rebecca’s artwork, which Jessica tells Mattie is mostly Daredevil art. The con-goers are enthusiastic about the pieces Rebecca is selling, praising her composition and use of color.

In between, they get the story of how Rebecca and Cassandra met when Rebecca got her driver’s licence and started sojourning to Cassandra’s home town.

“It was like I was in a coma, and now I wasn’t,” Rebecca says. “Because I could kiss whoever I want. I could talk about whatever I want. I could express myself without someone making fun of me or asking me what’s wrong with me.”

Apparently, Rebecca and Cassandra had been planning Rebecca’s flight from Lago since Christmas. Rebecca had worked on the artwork they’re now selling, sending electronic copies for Cassandra to be printed in high quality, and Cassandra had driven up to Lago and brought Rebecca to the city once Cassandra’s finals were done.

“What’s she like?” Rebecca says after an enthusiastic Daredevil fan (dressed in the leather catsuit) buys a poster.

“Who?” Mattie says.

“You know! Daredevil.”

“Never met her,” Mattie can say, which isn’t exactly a lie. “I was never the one she dropped in on during the Fisk case.”

“Oh.”

“But Jessica’s met her,” Mattie says brightly. “Right, Jess?”

“What?”

“Daredevil.”

“Yeah. She’s kind of a bitch. But a great ass.”

“That’s not objectifying at all.”

“She’s the one who decided to go out in the leather catsuit.” _One week. I wore the damn thing for one week._ “Oh, there’s another one. That’s seven, by the way. You’re getting me shots.”

“How many dressed up as you?”

“Just the one,” Cassandra says spitefully. She hasn’t forgiven Jessica for…anything, really. “The girl walking around with the guy in the Luke Cage hoodie.”

Mattie quickly changes the subject before Jessica decides that violence is the answer to everything.

Artists’ Alley closes at six, and they’re on the road by seven, Mattie calling Rebecca’s parents to let them know they’ve found her. It’s one in the morning by the time they reach Lago, and Rebecca’s heart is hammering. She’s gripping Cassandra’s hand so tightly that Mattie can hear the shifting of bones. Cassandra doesn’t complain.

Mattie can almost smell the tension inside Katherine Mercer’s house as they approach it. Katherine’s the one who opens the door, Rebecca’s parents are sitting on opposite sides of the living room, and the air is electric as Rebecca walks in holding Cassandra’s hand.

“You’re all right,” Susan says flatly.

“Yeah.” Rebecca says.

And the whole family erupts, Susan shouting about how could Rebecca do this to her, Rebecca shouting about how hellish her life in Lago has been, Edward and Susan yelling at each other for failing Rebecca. Mattie brushes Jessica’s arm, and they slip out the front door, sitting on the steps.

“Tell me when they’re done,” Jessica says, pulling a thermos full of coffee out of the front seat of the car.

“I think you’ll know,” Mattie says.

It takes ten minutes before Katherine is calling Cassandra a lesbian whore.

“Don’t you dare call my daughter’s girlfriend that!” Edward shouts.

It’s another five minutes before Rebecca is throwing the door open and dragging Cassandra behind her.

“I’m not staying here,” she says, towering over Mattie and Jessica.

“We can’t if your parents don’t agree -“ Jessica starts.

“Actually, we can,” Mattie says quietly. “We’ve done our job. And she’s sixteen -“

“Seventeen in a few weeks,” Rebecca interrupts.

“So it’s not kidnapping,” Mattie finishes. “Arguably contributing to delinquency, but not if Rebecca finishes school.”

“You’re sure about that?” Jessica says.

“You want to see my bar association card?”

“Rebecca, get back in here!” Susan shouts from the door.

“I’m not staying here!” Rebecca shouts back.

“OK,” Jessica says, standing up, and the whole family falls silent. “Rebecca’s made it very clear she doesn’t want to stay here. And she’s been in the city for a month and hasn’t died yet, so I think she can take care of herself, so I’m going to let her make her own decisions. _But_ -“ Jessica points at Rebecca. “ _You_ have to leave your phone number and email address with your parents.”

“What do you think she’s going to do for money?” Susan snaps.

“I have a job,” Cassandra says.

“And I can find one,” Rebecca says. “I already sold some of my art today. Did you know that?”

Mattie wonders if she was ever that young.

“Really?” Edward says, and Mattie can hear a hit of pride in his voice.

“You can’t live on that!” Susan says.

Edward steps forward, his phone in hand. “We can call her in a few days, when we’re…when it’s not two in the morning,” he finishes lamely. “And we can all talk about this. Becky, give me your number.”

Rebecca reels it off. Once Edward has it programmed, he steps forward and hugs her.

“Glad you’re safe, Becky,” he says quietly, and Mattie smells saline. They break apart, and Rebecca climbs into the back seat of the car without a word.

“I can sue you for this,” Katherine snaps.

“No, you can’t,” Mattie says. “And we’ll be sending you your bill as soon as we get back to the city.”

The girls fall asleep in the back seat of the car in less than an hour.

“The mom has a point,” Jessica says. “She’s going to need an income.”

Mattie hums her assent.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a landline put in,” Jessica continues. “I get so many calls on my cell, I have to turn it off if I’m working. And if I’ve got you working cases, I mean, Malcolm helps when he can, but he’s just helping out…”

“Are you saying you need an assistant?”

“Don’t need one. But, you know, wouldn’t hurt.”

“Jessica Jones, are you adopting us like strays?”

“Fuck off. I just thought your super-hearing would be useful.”

“Shh,” Mattie says, gesturing over her shoulder. The girls are both fast asleep.

“Whatever.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Mattie says. She smiles. “And I think Rebecca might like working with a bona fide superhero.”

“Two.”

“We’re never telling her that. She’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“You haven’t seen her artwork.”

“Is she _good_?” Mattie says, asking the question that she’s been curious about since the case started.

Jessica drums her fingertips on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” she says. “She’s really good.”

They drop the girls at the convention hotel, and Jessica gives Rebecca her card and the job offer. Rebecca is stunned, and Cassandra smoothly says that they’ll give Jessica a call to let her know.

Foggy is asleep when Mattie gets in. She’s bone-tired herself, so she strips off her clothes and climbs into bed next to him. He doesn’t wake up, just wraps an arm around her. She presses herself close to him.

_This is my family._

She remembers the Crosses screaming at each other, digging deep and aiming to hurt.

She’s already hurt Foggy so badly, lied to him, abandoned him when he needed her. But he forgave her, came back to her, and now they’re going to have a baby.

The Crosses were practically strangers to each other.

She doubles over in bed, clutching her knees to her chest, and she can feel Foggy wake up and rub circles on her back.

“Hey, kitten, you going to be sick?” he says, still a little sleepy.

She shakes her head.

“You need anything? Some water?”

She breathes deep, breathing in the scent of him.

“Can you just…hold me?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” He spoons her, wrapping himself around her. His heart beats against her back, and his breath moves the hairs on her neck.

“Promise me,” she says.

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me you won’t let me screw up the baby.”

Foggy presses his cheek against her hair for a moment.

“Only if you promise me the same thing,” he says. “We’re in this together.”

She nods. “What if they hate us?”

He squeezes his arms around her waist. “That’s going to happen anyway. We just have to make sure they hate us for the right reasons, and that they can grow out of it.”

She nods again.

“We’re going to be OK. All three of us,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“Love you too.”

His breathing slows, a rhythm as familiar as his heartbeat. _Home._ With space enough for three.


End file.
